


Family is in the eye of the beholder

by cutiesonthehorizon



Category: Chicago Med
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiesonthehorizon/pseuds/cutiesonthehorizon
Summary: Connor gets hurt at work. Cue in forgotten memories, some TLC, his father and the mother of all headaches. Not necessarily in that order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. Before you jump into the story, I'd like to say a few words:) This is my first Chicago Med multi-chapter fic and it is already finished. I'll be posting the rest of the chapters in a few days so you don't have to worry about this being a WIP. This is a gen fic with focus on Connor whump. I'm not a doctor, so take the medical parts with a grain of salt please. I'd like to thank my beta Argallel for her help and awesome comments. Any mistakes you encounter are purely my own. Also I'd like to add that the fic is set around the start of season 2, before Connor got used to Dr. Latham and there's also no Robin yet. Okay, that's all from me. Please, carry on and let me know if you're enjoying the ride so far:)

"I think he's coming around, Dr. Choi," April said, even as the doctor leaned over their patient, gently peeking under the bandage to see if the wound was still bleeding.

"Connor? Are you with us, buddy?" Ethan asked when his ministrations were met by a bleary and confused look.

"Huh? Whazza-" was the eloquent reply, along with blinking eyes and a hand reaching up to either push him away or to wave off some unseen fly. "Five more minutes, Maggie," Connor muttered and the uncoordinated hand landed on his face, trying to shield his eyes from unwanted lights.

Ethan and April exchanged a look that was half amused, half concerned.

"If you explain how you can mistake me for Maggie, I'll even give you ten," Ethan took Connor's hand and pulled it off his eyes, while April took his other hand and deftly inserted the IV port.

"What the-" Connor didn't even get a chance to protest. He felt the needle piercing his skin, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the thumping headache. Seeing Ethan hovering above him, albeit a bit blurry, only made him more confused and a little bit scared. He tried to take control at least over his left hand and clumsily rubbed at his eyes.

"Did I fell asleep on the job?" he asked, feeling fuzzy and more tired than he normally would after a 24-hour shift.

"No, you didn't," was the answer he got as Ethan once again grabbed his hand and gently guided it away from his head. Connor grunted and frowned at his friend. He wasn't some puppet to be moved around anyway. What was his deal?

"Sorry, just don't want you to mess with the bandage and start it bleeding again," Ethan explained, after seeing the angry look.

"Bleeding?" Connor asked, now totally dumbfounded. This time it was his right hand that automatically reached up to check the side of his head that was hurting the most, ignoring the tug of the IV line and April's admonishments. And it was telling that Connor just now noticed the bandage that was plastered directly above his right ear and the telltale pain of an open wound instead of just a migraine.

Frowning, Connor once again rubbed at his eyelids, trying to clear up his vision a bit. He carefully looked around, taking in that he was lying on a bed in one of the ED rooms, still wearing his surgical scrubs. 'Thank god for small mercies,' he thought idly. He was hooked up to a cardiac monitor and sporting an IV, but other than the head wound, there didn't seem to be anything seriously wrong with him. All his limbs worked, though now that he moved around, he could feel a few bruises on his left side and a sore wrist. He could also see that while only Ethan and April were in the room, Maggie and Sharon Goodwin were throwing covert looks at him from behind the reception desk, all the while speaking to some cops. All in all, the situation confused the hell out of Connor and he didn't feel much like solving it. The last thing he remembered was-

"I was scrubbing in for surgery," he spoke suddenly, but wearily, thankful that both his colleagues gave him a second to get his bearings. "What happened? Did Latham throw a tray at my head or what?"

Ethan grinned, remembering the rumors about Latham having a hissy fit during one of his first surgeries with Connor.

"While that would be infinitely more fun to deal with, nope, sorry bro." Ethan took out his trusty penlight and leaned over Connor, silently asking his permission.

Connor groaned, but looked right at Ethan when he shone the light into his eyes, checking his pupil reaction. The resounding explosion of color and pain wasn't really worth it in Connor's opinion, but he was too busy squinting and gritting his teeth to voice it.

"Okay, now follow the pen," Ethan said, his voice back to business as he conducted the exam.

"What's the verdict?" Connor asked once the offending penlight was safely tucked in Ethan's pocket. Ethan sighed and nodded at April.

"Order a CT, CBC, hematocrit and call in Jacobs for a neuroconsult," Ethan said. He turned back to Connor.

"Your pupils are unequal, and your tracking is off. How's your vision?"

"Great, if the ED was hit by a sudden fog," Connor muttered, unsuccessfully trying to clear his thoughts. "'s probably just a concussion," he added wearily and barely hid a yawn. He felt so damn tired all of a sudden.

"Hey, don't go to sleep just now, buddy," Ethan said and squeezed Connor's shoulder until the man opened his eyes again.

"Kay. What happened?" Connor asked. If he had to be up a bit longer, he could at least find out why he was laid up in the exam room and suddenly sporting a hell of a headache.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Told you, scrubbing for surgery," Connor replied, annoyed. He didn't want to play twenty questions; all he wanted was a simple answer, then sleep.

"Which one?" Ethan didn't budge. He was watching his colleague with assessing eyes, looking at the display above his head, then once again checking the wound. The bleeding seemed to have almost stopped, but he wanted to wait for the CT before sewing it up.

"Connor?" he poked into the surgeon, frowning at the bleary look he got in reply. Connor was fading fast and if Ethan didn't keep his attention, he would just fall asleep in a minute. "Who were you operating on?"

"Pat... Patterson, I think. The kid... from the car crash?" It was more of a question than a statement, but Ethan was happy with the answer. It meant that Connor didn't lose that much time... if one didn't count a five hour surgery a long time.

"Yeah, that's the one. Good. So you don't remember anything else? From the surgery or after?"

"I don't remember a thing," Connor growled. His hand came up once again to cover his eyes. "Can you tell me what's going on, or at least give me something for the headache?" he asked, getting more and more irritated.

"Sorry pal, no drugs until Jacobs can assess you. As to what happened, long story short, another patient's father clobbered you with a baseball bat."

"Huh?" Connor blinked, unsure if he had heard right. "I don't... what? Why?"

"We're still trying to work that out, but don't worry. He's being taken into custody as we speak."

"That isn't all that helpful," Connor said, still in disbelief. "What... what about my patient? The kid?"

"Oh, I heard that went well. He's in recovery now."

"Good," Connor said and let his eyes fall closed. He heard Ethan asking him more questions, but he didn't have the energy to answer any of them. It felt like the room was spinning and he had to fight to keep his lunch down, no way was he opening his mouth. He heard April return and felt her taking blood, but he didn't even flinch. Ethan was trying to continue with the neuro exam and kept asking Connor to push his leg or squeeze his hand. Connor did, though even he could tell he didn't put everything in it. No one could blame him though; he was already half asleep.

Somewhere in the distance he heard Goodwin's voice, Ethan saying something about a possible intracranial bleed, and even Hallstead popping in to enquire about his status. He should've felt either embarrassed or touched by all the concern, but in truth, he didn't feel anything. Only the growing distance between himself and the real world, as the darkness spun around him and unconsciousness lured him in. Last thing he was aware of was strange fingers prying open his eyes, a shining light, and a burst of pain and nausea before he finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

 

The bar was eerily quiet and mostly empty. There were just a few guests that Connor hadn't seen before and a barman he should've recognized, but whose name eluded him. It was clearly dark outside, probably late at night. The few people mingling around the bar were conversing in hushed tones. Some pop music was playing in the background, and two people slowly danced on the floor. Connor was sitting at the bar, looking at a half empty bottle of whiskey before him and nursing a glass. By the steady thumping inside his skull he either must've consumed most of that whiskey, or just came here to finish the rest, to fight off the headache.

Connor looked at his glass and pushed it away with disgust. He didn't want a drink. He didn't want to be there, and he wasn't even sure where _there_ was. Standing up from the stool, the room spun around, and he had to catch himself on the bar. His head was fuzzy and the pop music in the background turned into a soundtrack of the steady beating inside his skull. Something was wrong.

"Hey, I think I need some help..." Connor said, trying to catch the barman's attention, but the guy ignored him like he wasn't even there, and the room kept spinning. "What the hell?" Connor was now holding on to the bar like a lifeline, the people around him vanishing in a fog. All he could see clearly was the mirror at the bar, but it didn't show his own image. Instead, there was a long forgotten face staring right back at him and Connor let out a choked sob.

"M-mom?" he asked. He reached towards the mirror. As soon as he let go of the bar, the world spun out of control and Connor closed his eyes as his stomach tried to rebel on him. The image of his mother fused with the angry face of his father and he was back in his old house, huddled on the staircase as he listened to the heated argument between his parents. He was ten; it was the middle of the night when he heard the strange sounds and decided to explore. He knew it wasn't right, but as soon as he heard his mother sobbing, he froze, and sat down on the top of the staircase. She was shouting at his father, saying words Connor knew but didn't really understand, at least not then. He heard the pain in her voice, the utter despair, heard his father threaten her with lawyers and taking away the only thing she cared for. There was the raw sound of a resounding slap that made Connor flinch and stand. The sobbing came closer and he saw his mother rush past him, unseeing. His father suddenly stood at the bottom of the stairs, a red hand print adorning his face.

"Go back to bed, Connor," he said with a weary voice, and Connor spun around and ran towards his room. He rushed through the door and slammed it closed, leaning against it. He desperately tried to calm his breathing, but it wasn't possible. His heart was hammering and there were white flashes all around him. Suddenly, he heard a hum of a machine and there was a blinding light shining into his eyes. Connor yelped and grabbed for his head, feeling as if it would explode any minute. He collapsed to his knees and felt someone's hands reaching for him, grabbing him. At first it felt calming, but when Connor tried to move, tried to get up and look around, the hands became cold and restraining. Something was holding his head in place and the more Connor struggled to free himself, the harder the hand pushed against his head and it hurt and Connor couldn't struggle anymore. He moaned and gritted his teeth so hard it felt like he was grinding them to dust until the hands suddenly let go and Connor wobbled on uncertain legs.

Suddenly he was back at the hospital, just out of surgery. In front of him stood a pair of relieved and thankful parents. The mother was hugging him and the father squeezed his hand, smiling genuinely. Connor opened his mouth to tell the parents that they could see their son in just a short while, when the look on the man's face turned from happiness, to confusion, finally landing on fear. Connor didn't understand the sudden change, but he reacted instinctively and turned to look behind so he could see what was going on. In midst of the turn he saw a face filled with incomprehensible rage. He couldn't even blink before the face vanished behind a swinging baseball bat, heading straight for his head.

Connor watched in slow motion as the bat came closer. The world fell still and he was trying to raise his hand to block the blow, but knew he wouldn't make it. He was too slow - the world was too slow. He felt the bat connect with the side of his head, saw the blinding light, and felt his body falling, falling right to the cold hard floor. His left side took the brunt of the fall and he thought he should be dead already, or at least unconscious as his head impacted with the floor, but the world was still there and he watched through half open lids as the father of the boy threw himself in front of his wife and against the attacker, who was now pinned against the wall. There was no sound, just slow blurred motion as more people came rushing and between blinks Connor recognized Ethan's face peering down at him, until something wet dripped into his eyes and the world went thankfully blank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who sent kudos and reviewed. Without much ado, here's chapter two. Enjoy!

 

* * *

Connor came to with a cry on his lips, his left hand shooting into the air as if to fend off an invisible attacker. For a split second he was back on the floor of the waiting room, then there were suddenly more hands pushing him down, back to the bed and the splitting headache took away all the fight he had in him. Connor let himself be pushed back onto the pillow, his head weighing a ton, and tried in vain to calm down his breathing.

"Relax, it's okay, you're okay. Just breathe," he heard from a distance after a minute, when sound started to come back. There was the annoying beeping of the heart monitor that let him know his heart was still thinking about mortal danger and pumping adrenaline into his system, but he tried to ignore that in favor of the familiar voice.

"That's it, hun. Are you back with us?" It was Maggie, had to be. No one else would call him hun, not while he was at work at least. Connor let out a sound that could be interpreted either as an agreement, or a grunt, but Maggie was obviously magic and got the meaning, because he heard her chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd rather be asleep right now, but it's time to join the living."

Another grunt, this time because he definitely didn't condone her good mood in the face of his suffering, but then she ran her hand gently over his forehead and cheek, and Connor was hit with the memory of his mother doing just that some twenty five years ago. He turned into the touch longingly, wishing he could stay like that and didn't have to open his eyes, but knew it was a futile wish.

"Come on hun, I know you deserve some sleep after those 12 hour shifts you've been pulling lately, but the doctors around are getting a bit nervous and impatient. You know how they dislike their patients getting more sleep than they do."

Another touch of fingers on his cheek and Connor sighed and gave up the pretense. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Maggie standing over him, the look of concern on her face changing into one of relief.

"Hey," he said, his voice raspy and sounding a bit too weak for his liking.

"Hey, about time," Maggie said and put a hand on his shoulder when he tried to sit up a bit to look around. "Try not to move around too much, Dr. Rhodes," she admonished him, a little too late. The moment Connor lifted his head from the pillow, the room spun around, and this time his stomach decided it had had enough.

Eyes going wide, Connor grunted out the word "sick," before turning to his left side and heaving. Luckily Maggie seemed to anticipate the action because she had a basin under his chin even before the bile came out. Connor squeezed his eyes shut, his right hand gripping the railing as he wished for the sweet unconsciousness to claim him. There was nothing worse than throwing up when one was having the mother of all migraines. Unfortunately, his body seemed to veto this thought and he was all too aware of a hand gently circling on his back, then wiping his mouth with a washcloth after the dry heaves finished. Flopping boneless back to the pillow, Connor moaned and felt both embarrassed and angry at whomever caused his suffering.

"It's okay, you'll be right as rain in few days," Maggie soothed, squeezing his shoulder gently. Connor had the decency not to glare at her, but only because the lights were too bright and it was too much effort.

"Can you just put me to sleep until then?" he muttered, then decided it was maybe time to find out what the hell was wrong with him… except for the obvious, of course.

"So... concussion?" he asked, realizing he was still in the ED and was now a proud wearer of a hospital gown. Maggie patted him on the hand, checked his IV, and took the dirty basin from the bedside table.

"Why don't I get rid of this and let Dr. Jacobs and Dr. Choi know you're awake? You just rest up and try not to fall asleep before they come, deal?"

"Do I have a choice?" Connor asked, but Maggie was already out of the room. He sighed. Well, he was a doctor, and he could do an assessment himself... gingerly reaching up towards the wound on his head, Connor felt the small bandage covering the freshly sewn up wound. The area was rather tender and he decided leaving it alone would be the wiser thing to do. There was no ICP, which was good. If they weren't monitoring his intracranial pressure, that meant it was probably just a bad concussion and nothing else, however lousy he felt. On the other hand, the strange fuzziness he felt was a bit troubling. He was definitely on some stronger drugs, but couldn't figure out which ones. That by itself was a good indicator that he wasn't going home at least for a day or two... if he was lucky.

Despite Maggie's request to stay awake, Connor was half asleep by the time Ethan and Jacobs walked into his cubicle.

"Connor, buddy? Are you still with us?" Ethan asked, gently shaking Connor's shoulder. The surgeon blinked.

"Despite my best try to fall asleep, yeah," he muttered, and both doctors chuckled.

"Well, good to see you conscious, Dr. Rhodes," Jacobs said, and without a preamble, started with the neurochecks, while Ethan was watching from the sidelines. Connor answered several mundane questions and a few that suddenly seemed to take a longer time to answer than they should. He also grudgingly went through the part of the exams checking his motor functions, but had drawn the line at cooperating when Jacobs tried shining the penlight into his eyes. All too aware of what happened the last time someone tried to do that, Connor squeezed his eyes shut and growled.

"Photosensitivity or nausea?" Jacobs asked without losing a beat and when Connor opened his eyes, sneakily used the moment to check his pupil reactions.

"Fuck!" Connor swore rather uncharacteristically, his hand automatically flying up to cover his eyes. He didn't even realize Ethan was standing next to him, squeezing his arm in silent support.

"You're doing alright, Dr. Rhodes. I'll need you to follow my finger now. I promise not to use the light again," Jacobs said, ignoring the glare he got from both Connor and Ethan.

"Okay, follow my finger. You didn't answer my question, Dr. Rhodes. Any photosensitivity or nausea?" Jacobs asked, even as he watched the color slowly drain from his patient's face when he moved the finger before Connor's eyes.

"Both," Connor choked out and quickly closed his eyes, while his hands grasped the railing. It was bad enough he was sick in front of Maggie; he wasn't planning on retching now.

"The nurse wrote down that you were sick twice already, but that could be caused either by the TBI or the Keppra we're giving you as seizure prophylaxis," Jacobs droned out, reading the chart, while all Connor could think about was that he didn't remember being sick more than once.

"You were awake several times, but quite confused," Ethan said as an explanation to Connor's confused look.

"Oh, I don't remember," Connor admitted sheepishly.

"You didn't miss anything," Ethan said with a slight grin, and Connor wondered just what he did or said during that time, when he realized what Jacobs was saying.

"Wait. TBI and Keppra? Why am I on antiepileptic meds?" he asked nervously, looking from Jacobs to Ethan and then back again, even though it made the room spin faster.

"The CT showed some bleeding in the dura. It appears to be a slow bleed and we are hoping it will resolve itself in time without need for surgery. Right now we're giving you corticosteroids, as well as Keppra to stave off possible seizures and are keeping your head elevated to 30 degrees," Jacobs explained, albeit a little more slowly so that his patient could get his head around the diagnosis and treatment. He wouldn't be so straightforward with a concussed patient, but this was a colleague after all, not to mention the son of one of the hospital biggest benefactors. Some professional courtesy was in order.

"Are you with me so far, Dr. Rhodes?" he asked, as his patient seemed to be lost in thought. Connor blinked and gave a small nod.

"Yeah. Subdural hematoma and TBI," he said a little glumly, trying to think about all the possible things that could go wrong, starting with brain injury that could keep him out of surgery for several months or even forever.

"Now, it's not as bad as it sounds," Jacobs tried to cheer him up a bit. "We'll move you to the SNICU for close monitoring and repeat the CT scan first thing in the morning to see if the bleeding has stopped. If you stay alert, we might even stay clear from ICP monitoring."

"What about permanent damage? My vision is still blurry," Connor admitted with some apprehension.

"You have a concussion and your body is pumped full of some strong drugs. Give it a little time. If it doesn't clear up in the next 72 hours, we will consult with an ophthalmologist, but there's no need to worry about that yet. There's slight swelling in your brain that might be affecting the optical nerve."

Connor had an urge to snort at the cavalier way Jacobs was speaking about his brain, but thought better of it. The resulting spike in his headache wouldn't be worth it.

"Well, that's all from me. Do you have any questions, Dr. Rhodes?"

"When will I be moved?" Connor asked wearily. He had several questions, but didn't feel like asking them right now, especially not to Jacobs.

"Your bed should be ready within the hour, I believe. Don't worry, our nurses are just as nice as yours," Jacobs said with a grin. He patted Connor's leg and left the cubicle.

"I don't like him," Connor muttered as soon as Jacobs was gone, and Ethan chuckled.

"What, he's too cheery for you?" Ethan asked, and Connor grunted in reply. It was getting harder to concentrate again, and he knew sleep would come soon, but now that Jacobs left, he wasn't ready for it. Somehow the thought of leaving the ED scared him. At least here there were people who knew him a bit, who offered some comfort if needed. He was scared of more dreams… and memories. He still couldn't understand why the picture of his mom came to his mind after all these years.

"So... how are you really feeling?" Ethan asked suddenly, bringing Connor back to the present. It was annoying how hard he had to think about the answer, how much time it took to process the question.

"Fuzzy." He said the first thing that bothered him the most and Ethan nodded.

"It will get better, just give it time."

Time. Just how much time did he lose?

"What _is_ the time?" he asked as he yawned.

"Almost seven."

"Afternoon?" Connor blinked, surprised. The patient he worked on was brought in right at the start of his shift, around seven in the morning.

"Yeah. You finished the surgery around 1 in the afternoon, when this happened."

"So I've been out of it for almost six hours?" Connor felt his heart speed up a bit, and knew Ethan could see it on the heart monitor next to his head. But he couldn't stop worrying… six hours of unconsciousness mostly meant severe TBI and the greater possibility of brain damage.

"In and out, mostly." Ethan tried to calm him down a bit. "You woke up about ten minutes after the attack and presented with a GCS of 12, so that's good. And you might not remember it, but we already spoke a few times in between, although I've had better conversations with my parrot, I must admit," Ethan added with small grin, trying to cheer Connor up. "What I'm saying is, don't think about it. Your speech and motor skills are all in range. No need to worry now, just relax. You might even meet some nice nurse on the SNICU floor."

Connor sighed and gave a small nod, appreciating his friend's attempt at comfort. To be frank, he really didn't feel like worrying about stuff... his head was still hurting and the light was getting on his nerves. Even Ethan's voice and the typical sounds of the ED were getting a bit muffled and he couldn't hide another yawn.

"Why don't you rest up a bit before they move you?" Ethan said when he saw the tight lines of pain and the sleepiness on Connor's face.

"Yeah... sounds good," Connor mumbled, eyes already closed. He was almost asleep when he realized that Ethan had pulled up a chair next to his bed and was ruffling through some magazine. Blinking heavily, he turned to his friend.

"Isn't your shift over?" he asked quietly. Ethan looked up from the magazine.

"Yeah, it ended a while ago."

"You're still here?" Connor muttered.

"We're friends. I thought you could use some company while you're still in the ED," Ethan said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Connor blinked, confused.

"You had us worried for a while, buddy," Ethan admitted, remembering the moment he saw Connor lying on the floor, head covered in blood, unresponsive and looking half dead. It wasn't a nice picture, and Ethan pushed it back. "Maggie is staying too, at least until we get you moved to SNICU. And you can expect everyone else popping in at some point. They'd be camping out there, but Goodwin sent them home. Personally, I thought it would be a bit creepy to wake up and find several people staring at you," he added with a slight smile, and Connor had to agree. The thought of anyone watching him sleep was creeping him out, but at least Ethan or Maggie had already seen him sleeping during one of his double shifts.

"Thanks bro," he said, appreciating the gesture and feeling just a bit safer in the knowledge there were people looking out for him, even after hours.

"Never leave a man behind," Ethan muttered under his breath, but Connor was already fast asleep. Ethan automatically looked at the monitors to check if everything was alright and eased himself back to his chair. Damn, but they could make them more comfortable. Ten minutes later, Maggie walked into the cubicle, silently observing their patient.

"All good?" she asked in a low voice, and Ethan nodded.

"He's asleep. His bed ready?"

"In half an hour, they need to settle another patient first."

"You going home?"

"Later," she said, and pulled up another chair, putting her aching feet up on the side of Connor's bed. She pulled out a small book from her pocket and started reading. Connor moved around a bit, unconsciously trying to find a more comfortable position. A hand landed on his foot, offering comfort and he stilled. He wasn't alone - that was all he needed to know right now.

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A bit shorter chapter this time, but that's where the scene ended. Next chapter will be longer and coming soon, I promise:) Enjoy and let me know what you think. Cheers

Somewhere in the distance there was motion and words and too much light to even contemplate opening his eyes. Connor let out something that sounded suspiciously like a whine when hands grasped the sheets he was lying on and moved him to another bed. In the back of his mind he noticed the change of pace around him, the quieter hum without the noise of the ED. He felt someone squeezing his hand in response to the sound of distress, so he relaxed and let himself be taken back to the darkness.

His dreams were turbulent and troubled. Everything was chaotic, fantasy mixed with memories he desperately wished to forget and it all coalesced into a seemingly inescapable nightmare. When he finally came to and opened his eyes, he was panting and covered in cold sweat. The fact he was staring into the eyes of his own father just seconds after waking up from the memory of his mother's death didn't help. When his father reached out to him, Connor flinched violently, pulling back.

"Son?" Cornelius Rhodes asked, his hand frozen mid-movement. "Do you need me to call the nurse?"

Connor took in a breath, trying to calm down. He gave a slight shake of his head, then muttered a raspy, "Why are you here?"

Cornelius looked at him strangely, one hand landing on the bed railing, the other reaching for the call button.

"I think I'd better call her. You don't look so good, son."

Connor blinked, looking around, and taking in the new room he was in. Well, it wasn't actually a room, it was more like a cubicle. There were several of them in a wide circle, covered only by privacy curtains, and he could see the nurses' station in the center, just like in the ED. He was still trying to slow down his breathing when one of the nurses looked up from the computer and walked towards him. She was a little familiar, but Connor didn't know her name.

"Dr. Rhodes, you're awake. I'm Amy, I'm your night nurse." She introduced herself with a smile and started checking his vitals.

"Connor, please," Connor muttered, and tried to focus on what she was doing instead of trying to figure out why was his father there.

"My son seems to be in distress, nurse. Can't you give him something for pain?" Cornelius spoke, his tone a mix of annoyance and charm.

Amy looked at him, obviously not taken in by the tone, then gave a slight shake of her head.

"I'm sorry, but I can't give him anymore medication at this moment. We need to assess his level of consciousness regularly, and drugging him wouldn't help us with that," she told Cornelius. She turned back to Connor, who was still watching his father, confused.

"Connor, what is your pain level, from one to ten?"

"Seven, I think. But it's the same as when I woke up in the ED," he muttered, not really comfortable speaking about himself with his father present. "What are you doing here, dad?" he asked, a little more harshly than he intended, but then again, he had a hell of a migraine. This time it was his father who looked uncomfortable. Amy quickly read the room, her people skills honed by several years of nursing. She realized her presence wasn't needed at this moment.

"Okay, I'll give you two five minutes to talk, then you'll have to leave, Mr. Rhodes. It's already long past the visitation hours, and I'll need to assess Connor, then let him get some sleep." With that, she turned and left before either of the men could utter a protest.

Cornelius huffed and Connor gave up the hope that he won't have to talk to his father right now.

"When I heard my son was attacked in the same hospital I so generously sponsored, of course I had to come and see that you were alright. The least I can do is make sure they'll give you their best possible care, if nothing else. I'll leave the matter of deplorable security for the board meeting tomorrow," Cornelius said in a huff, and Connor had to take a minute to make head and tails of what he heard.

"Board meeting?" Connor approached the topic that was the least strange for his father, because the idea that he would come just to check up on his son's health was not even up for consideration, at least not for Connor.

"Of course. Do you really think I would let it slide that some guy waltzed in with a baseball bat and played piñata with my son's head, without a single security guard questioning his presence?"

Somewhere in the sentence was a statement of concern, but all Connor heard was a chance to get the hospital in some trouble on his behalf, which he wasn't that keen on.

"Dad, I don't think it was the hospital's fault-" he started, but Cornelius shook his head.

"I'm not debating this with you now, Connor. The fact is, a man walked in with a baseball bat and attacked a doctor. Not just any doctor. He attacked _my son_. That is simply not acceptable," Cornelius said rather fiercely, and for the first time, Connor realized that his father came in as a concerned father, not just a board member. This didn't make the conversation any easier, especially not with the image of his mother still fresh on his mind.

"Look dad, I... I can't even think about this now," Connor started, rubbing at his eyes wearily. He ran one of his hands through his hair, wincing when he encountered a sore spot on the left side of his head where he hit the floor. "Just... don't kick up too much of a fuss. I'm okay." Seeing the look of disbelief on his father's face, Connor snorted.

"I will be," he said and let a huge yawn escape him. "Just...need some sleep."

Cornelius watched him for a minute, then stood up with a sigh.

"Claire sends her well wishes. She would've come, but she's out of town for a few days. I'll stop by later when you are more awake, to continue this... conversation. Feel better, son," Cornelius said and awkwardly patted his son's shoulder, then left.

Few minutes later, Connor was roused from a slight doze by the nurse.

"Dr. Rhodes, your father is gone, it's time for the check up."

"Huh? Oh. I thought we agreed on Connor?" he muttered, squinting up at her through barely open lids.

"We did. I was just checking your memory, Connor. See? I remember. Now how about you tell me my name and how you really feel?"

"Amy. Is it short for 'manda?" Connor asked with a sleepy grin.

"Aren't you a charmer, Connor. Spot on. Now tell me how much your head hurts."

"A lot," Connor admitted and gritted his teeth when she pulled out the hated penlight. "Come on, I hate that thing," he whined and looked miserable enough to remind Amy of her puppy dog when she left him alone the first time. She bit her lip and shook her head, amused.

"Trust me, there isn't a patient on this floor who doesn't. As a doctor, you should know that."

Connor would've rolled his eyes but knew it wasn't wise.

"Kay. But you better get the basin; I'd rather not puke on you."

Amy just pointed towards the basin sitting on the table within easy reach, her eyebrows rising in a silent challenge. Connor blinked, then with a sigh, looked right at her. Amy gently grabbed his chin and shone the light first in his left, then his right eye. Connor hissed but didn't pull away, though he went a shade greyer and his breathing quickened.

"Do you want the basin?" Amy asked, once she finished with the test, and Connor burrowed his head back in the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'll give you a minute to get your bearings." True to her words, she used the minute to record her findings and check if everything was in its place. Connor, meanwhile, focused on deep breaths, hoping that a bit of oxygen might clear his head and stop it from spinning so wildly. After a while, he felt a hand touching his wrist.

"Connor? Are you in pain or dizzy?" Amy asked and Connor flinched at how loud her voice suddenly sounded.

"Both," he whispered and Amy instinctively lowered her voice.

"Are sounds bothering you too, Connor?"

"Mhm. Migraine," he ground out between tightly clenched teeth.

"Okay, I'll try to be quiet. On the scale from one to ten, how bad is the pain now?"

"Nine?" Connor said, uncertain. He was pretty sure his head was going to explode, but somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a thought that people could feel even worse.

"What about your vision?"

Connor opened his eyes a slit before quickly shutting them.

"S-spinning," he said, swallowing hard. He didn't want to be sick, god, he really didn't want to.

"Okay, rest up, I'll be back in a second."

'Not going anywhere,' Connor thought, screwing his eyes shut and putting his arm over them to block out all the annoying light. He would've liked nothing better than to lock himself in some nice, soundproof, dark room so that he could sob without anyone hearing him if he felt like it. Unfortunately he was lying in the middle of a bright room, where he could hear sounds coming from other cubicles. Patients breathing, moaning, or the annoying sound of the machinery. Connor was getting lost in his misery, his ears taking in every scrape and breath, at the same time reverberating it through his skull ten times louder.

"Here, this should help. I've called Dr. Jacobs for some changes in the dosage of your pain medication. I'm afraid I'll have to wake you up a bit more often, but it will help the pain. This should help too." She pulled his arm from his face and put a cold cloth right over his eyes. A minute later Connor felt something cold entering his bloodstream and after a while the headache went down from a nine to an eight. Maybe if he focused only on breathing, sleep would come and save him from this misery.


	4. Chapter 4

The night wasn't kind to Connor. He spent most of it awake, fighting nausea and a hell of a migraine. At one point, he was ready to smash his skull against the wall just to stop the pain, but he couldn't even find the strength to get out of his bed. He wished for unconsciousness, but it didn't want to come. By the time morning had rolled over, he had fallen into restless sleep due to sheer exhaustion, so when he was awakened by the technician taking him for his CT, he was anything but a ray of sunshine. When he was pushed back from the imagining, he was welcomed by a new nurse from the morning shift. His name was Edgar and he looked to be a man who meant business. And of course, first order of the business was breakfast, followed by morning rounds. Connor took one look at the breakfast tray, the determined look on Edgar's face, and knew his day won't get much better.

Of course when Dr. Jacobs came in and started shining that penlight in Connor's eyes, the measly breakfast he'd managed to consume made a reappearance. Connor was just a bit sad that he didn't manage to splash some of the oatmeal on Jacobs' boots, but at least he made the doctor jump back a little. Though it wasn't worth the discomfort he felt, he had to find at least one bright spot in this situation.

"I see you are still having trouble keeping things down," Jacobs said a bit reproachfully, while peering at Connor's chart.

"Only when I eat and someone uses that damn penlight on me," Connor growled and Jacobs wrote a note in the chart, muttering the words "Hm, patient's irritable" under his breath. Connor's heart rate quickened a bit and Jacobs paused, realizing his mistake.

"Course I'm irritable. I barely slept, my head is killing me, and I swear that the next person who uses that light on me will walk away with a broken arm," Connor said threateningly. But instead of taking him seriously, Jacobs just raised his eyebrows, as if saying "You're proving my point." Which he probably was. As quickly as the anger came, it vanished, and Connor pushed the knuckles of his hands into his eyes, groaning.

"Sorry. That was... uncalled for. I don't know what's wrong with me," he muttered, feeling remorseful and spent.

Jacobs just waved him off.

"Trust me, it's not the worst I've heard, Dr. Rhodes. Some of those mood swings and irritability are caused by the concussion and the medication, and the rest I believe is simply exhaustion. I can see you had a rough night and didn't get much rest. I'll let you get back to sleep as soon as we finish here. For now, I'd like to discuss the results of your CT scan, if you feel up for it."

Connor blinked, suddenly feeling apprehensive and alone. He wished to be back in the ED where there were people he knew and trusted. Hell, right now he would've appreciated even Will Hallstead making fun of him, easing the mood. Or his father.

As soon as that thought crept into his mind, Connor gave himself an imaginary slap on the head. He was really losing it if he was wishing for the presence of the man he resented for being there just last night.

"I'm fine," he spoke suddenly, wincing at his own voice. "What did you find?"

"Well, the scan shows that the bleeding has grown a bit, but now it seems to-"

"Hey, what did I miss?" Ethan Choi walked into the room, cutting Jacobs off in the middle of his sentence. "Sorry for being late, pal, some guys from a bar fight just stumbled through the door, had to take care of them."

Connor felt the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, feeling inexplicable relief over Ethan's appearance. Obviously Jacobs didn't share his feelings as he glared at Choi murderously.

"Dr. Choi. I wasn't aware that you were called in for a consult," he spoke, his voice tight and controlled.

"I wasn't. But seeing as I was the admitting physician and Connor's friend, I thought it would be better if I was here. Also, there's an ED full of people who want to know how he's doing. Just thought I would save you some time explaining everything repeatedly."

"I don't see a reason why I would need to divulge confidential patient information to any of your colleagues, Dr. Choi," Jacobs started, and Connor could see this was going to end in a pissing contest that he didn't have the patience to watch right now, so he decided to cut in.

"It's okay, Dr. Jacobs. I'd prefer if you kept Dr. Choi informed as my admitting physician." Connor looked at both men, hoping he didn't look as pitiful as he felt. Dr. Jacobs hesitated for a minute, then simply nodded.

"Well then. As I was telling Dr. Rhodes, the area of the bleed has grown during the night, but it's a slow growth, so there's hope the bleeding will stop by itself. I've scheduled another CT in the afternoon, but if there isn't a significant change, I'd like to give the meds at least 24 hours to work."

"What about swelling of the brain and ICP?" Choi asked and Jacobs nodded, turning on the light box and showing them the most recent scan and the one taken right after the attack.

"There is a slight swelling of the brain apparent since the last 12 hours, but I think the steroids are doing their job and keeping it down. We're carefully monitoring the patient… sorry, Dr. Rhodes. Pupil dilation is still slightly uneven and tracking is slow, but not worse than yesterday. There were no further instances of loss of consciousness or deterioration in mental status. If anything occurs, we will start ICP monitoring ASAP."

Connor grimaced at that. While he knew it was a simple process - he had done it several times himself - he didn't fancy the thought of a hole being drilled into his skull to have a probe inserted. Although if it came to that, he would still prefer an ICP monitor over brain damage.

Ethan just nodded, looking at the scans.

"So how long until I can leave this joint?" Connor asked, trying to look relaxed while he felt anything but.

"It's too soon to say, Dr. Rhodes. Let's wait for the next CT scan. But I wouldn't be planning anything outside this unit for the next 48 hours at least."

"Awesome," Connor muttered, disheartened. It wasn't like he had any other place to be, except maybe home, but even the thought of his empty apartment made him nervous. There were just too many sharp corners he could encounter if he was hit by a dizzy spell, all alone.

Dr. Jacobs and Ethan spent few more minutes discussing the dosage of Connor's medications and the possible interactions as they wanted to get a hold over the persistent nausea, but Connor somehow tuned them out. It was only when Dr. Jacobs left and Ethan touched his shoulder that he looked up, blinking.

"Sorry. What?"

Ethan was studying him with concern, but shook his head and smiled.

"Nothing. I hope you don't mind I popped in?"

"Nah. Thanks. I'm still kinda out of it to really follow what Jacobs said."

"I can see that, man. By the way, you have a really impressive bruise on the right side of your face. Don't let the girls see you with it, or they'll mother you to death," Ethan joked and Connor's lip twitched.

"I don't need to worry 'bout that," he sighed and nodded towards the nurses' station, where Edgar was discussing something with Jacobs. "Doesn't Maggie want a rotation here? Just for the day?"

Ethan laughed. "I'll ask her, but don't hold your breath on that."

"Maybe a little hypoxia would cure my headache," Connor joked, rubbing at his eyes.

"That bad?" Ethan turned serious and suddenly Connor wanted to talk about anything else.

"No worse than a migraine, don't worry. Say, can you tell me what the hell happened?" he changed the topic, and although Ethan was still looking at him thoughtfully, now it was for different reasons.

"You still don't remember anything?" he asked carefully, and Connor wondered if he would get any information out of his friend or not.

"Think I had a flashback, could've been just a dream though," Connor admitted.

"That's good." Ethan brightened, then added: "I guess. What do you remember?"

Connor recounted the part of his dream that possibly related to his injury. He knew it wasn't just a dream the moment he saw the grimace on Ethan's face.

"You were right there, weren't you? I remember seeing you when I fell..."

"Yeah. I'm sorry." Ethan looked really miserable and Connor frowned, confused.

"Why?" There was no way Ethan could've stopped the attack, at least in Connor's mind. He appeared in the waiting room when Connor was already going down...

"I knew that guy was desperate and angry. I just told him his son died and he rushed out of the ED, muttering about someone having to pay. I was about to follow him, make sure he wouldn't do anything stupid, but Maggie needed info on another patient and I lost track of him. I'm really sorry man, I should've stopped him."

Connor was still having trouble focusing and Ethan's pacing across the room while he was explaining didn't help his situation.

"Hey man, stop. Just... stop. Making me dizzy," he muttered, grimacing, and Ethan paused, then settled himself in the chair right next to Connor's bed, looking remorseful. "Thanks," Connor sighed."Look, I still don't get how this is your fault. Or why that guy decided cracking my head open would solve anything. Did... did his son die on my table? I can't remember most of the morning. Did I mess up?"

"No, no. Course not," Ethan quickly said, grabbing Connor's right arm. "The Patterson kid, the one you saved?"

"Yeah, what about him? He crashed his car-"

"Five minutes after he'd run over another kid, a 16 year old boy, who was heading for his morning baseball training."

"What?" Connor blanched and his stomach flipped, but after a moment, he shook his head. He wasn't going to question who he saved. He knew from his own experience that 18 year old kids could be reckless and idiotic. Even if he knew at the moment Patterson was lying on his table that he was responsible for the death of another boy, Connor still would've done everything to save the kid.

"Connor?" Ethan was calling his name, but Connor was lost in deep thought. Only when Ethan reached up to wave a hand in front of his face did Connor flinch back, his eyes going wide.

"Whoa, hey. Didn't mean to startle you. You okay?" Ethan asked, looking Connor in the eyes and checking the quick pulse on the monitor. Edgar the nurse appeared behind him, frowning at the ED doctor reproachfully.

"We are trying to keep his blood pressure down, not bring it up," he said to Choi, but the doctor only nodded, watching Connor with concern.

"Not his fault." Connor spoke a little breathlessly, his cheeks coloring red with embarrassment. "Just got startled," he mumbled.

"Do try to keep it down," Edgar admonished, watching the monitors until Connor's heart rate slowed down to more appropriate levels before leaving the two alone.

"Sorry, I just..." Connor wasn't sure what to say. One second he was deep in thought, the next he saw a quick movement and Ethan's hand suddenly became a baseball bat heading his way.

"Flashback?" Ethan asked, already knowing the answer. He knew the signs, and really it was no wonder Connor was cautious about fast movements, especially when he was in a zoned out state. It might be a good idea to tell Dr. Charles to stop by and make sure Connor was handling the situation well, Ethan thought to himself, but didn't voice it out loud. When Connor didn't reply, he took it as a cue to change the topic.

"Mr. Parker is now in custody, pending a psych eval. The cops will want to speak with you about what happened, but Jacobs and Goodwin managed to delay them so far."

"How so?" Connor blinked. He didn't think Jacobs would be batting in his cage so much. Although maybe his father's presence last night might've had something to do with it. Which reminded him…

"They let my father in here last night, why not the cops?" Connor thought that dealing with the police might've been preferable to his father in any case.

"Your dad was here?" Ethan frowned.

"Yeah. Probably pulled the sponsor card or something," Connor said, suddenly tired. It was starting to get on his nerves, how one second he felt like jumping out of his skin and the next he could barely open his eyes. Concussions definitely sucked.

"What about that guy with the bat? How did he even find me? And why?" Connor asked even as his eyes were slipping closed, trying to get all the relevant information before he fell back to sleep.

"Maybe we should leave it for later, Connor," Ethan said, seeing the closing eyes. He was getting up from his chair when Connor grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving.

"I wanna know," Connor said imploringly, and Ethan gave up.

"Okay. The short version then. After I told him his son didn't make it, Mr. Parker left the hospital to calm down. You were still operating on the Patterson kid. April said that the paramedics dropped of the box with the kid's stuff they collected on the scene. When Parker came back to sign some papers and say goodbye to his son, he went through the box... that's when the parents of your patient arrived and were asking at the desk after their son." Ethan paused, looking at Connor and deciding if he should continue or just let the man succumb to sleep.

"Come on, Ethan," Connor said tiredly. "Don't let me hang there."

Ethan sighed, then shook his head.

"We aren't really sure what happened next. It looks like there was some beef about a girl between those two kids. Parker knew about it, so when he heard the other kid's name, he became suspicious. We don't know if he had some info or if he reacted on instinct, but he put two and two together. When April came back to the desk, the baseball bat from the box was missing and Parker was gone. Two hours later I saw him getting into an elevator. He didn't look right, so I went after him, but the elevator left and I had to take the stairs. By the time I realized where he went... you were already lying on the floor, bleeding, and Mr. Patterson had him pinned against the wall."

"Why did he attack me?" Connor asked, still confused. He could understand the rage, the hate. He felt all that when his mother died and then there was only his father to blame. But how he came into the equation was a mystery to him.

"We think his primary targets were the boy's parents, that you were just in the way, but Parker hasn't said a word yet, so it's all just guessing."

While it should've helped, knowing what happened to him and at least some of the reasons behind it, Connor still felt off, but he had trouble identifying why. Would it have been better to be targeted specifically for saving someone's life, or just be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Somehow none of the answers were helpful, but the feeling that there could be an angry relative lurking behind every corner was a bit daunting. It was probably just the fact that Connor was laid up in the hospital with a concussion. While this wasn't an entirely unfamiliar setting, he sure as hell didn't feel at home here, or even comfortable. Suddenly, he wished to be home in his own bed, in his own apartment where he had control over who he let inside and when. He felt just a tad vulnerable, lying there without even a door to close.

"Hey, it'll be okay," Ethan spoke, seeing the internal struggle play out clear as day on Connor's face. He would definitely need to speak to Daniel soon. "You'll be back on your feet in a few days. And I'm pretty sure by the time you get out of here, the security will be maxed up. Goodwin wasn't any happier about the situation than your father, I imagine."

"God, don't remind me," Connor groaned, not even wanting to know what his father was planning. He couldn't get a reading on the man. One minute his father went against him, trying to pull him off Russell's care, the next he was sitting by Connor's bedside like a loving parent. Or maybe that was just a hallucination, Connor thought suddenly. That would be more like it.

Ethan chuckled and patted Connor on the arm.

"Relax. If anyone can handle crap from your father, it's Sharon Goodwin. And I'm pretty sure they were on the same page this time, so… should be interesting."

"Great," Connor muttered with mixed feelings. Just then, Ethan's pager went off, and he gave an apologetic look to Connor.

"That's my cue to leave, I'm afraid. Oh, the guys from the ED wanted to know if you're up for some visitors?"

Connor blinked, a bit surprised.

"Sure, I guess," he said a bit uncertainly. "Just tell them to watch out for Edgar."

"Gotcha. Rest up, man." Ethan left and Connor burrowed his head into the pillow. He wasn't sure what to think of anything he'd heard in the last day. On the other hand, his head wasn't very keen on thinking at all, so that was probably alright. He relaxed for a few minutes, feeling incredibly tired and bored at the same time, wishing that Ethan could've stayed just a bit longer. He saw Edgar move closer to check up on things, a look of admonishment already on his face.

"You should try to get some sleep, Dr. Rhodes. And do try to relax," he added after recording Connor's heart rate and pulse.

"If only it was that easy," Connor muttered, but gave a nod and closed his eyes to stop the big man from pestering him any more. Edgar snorted, clearly realizing Connor's game, but left without another word. Strangely, Connor found that closing his eyes was much easier than opening them. Maybe he would just take a nap, like everyone was telling him to.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued support of all who reviewed, esp. want to thank the guest reviewers (I can't reply otherwise:) Here comes another chapter. Hope you'll all enjoy it and wishing to all happy Easter/alternatively an awesome end and start of the new week:D

Barely an hour later, Connor was pulled out of sleep by raised voices. He recognized Edgar's annoyed tone, telling some people that they should come back later, that the patient was asleep. He also heard Sharon Goodwin saying that they should listen to the nurse and come back later, but then a different male voice protested and Connor just had to see who was talking. Ever since he first woke up, the notion of strange people being around him while he lay vulnerable in a hospital bed made him really nervous. The fact that each time he woke up there was someone looking down at him was disconcerting. So he blearily opened his eyes and tried to rub the fog out of them. Someone must've noticed his movement, as the voices came closer.

"I think Dr. Rhodes is already awake, so why don't you let us just ask him a few questions? We've already given you more time than we should have."

Connor froze mid motion, then decided playing possum wasn't an option anymore.

"Dr. Rhodes is suffering from a severe concussion and is under observation for bleeding on his brain. He spent most of the night delirious or unconscious," Edgar said with such conviction that even Connor would've believed him, had it not all been an exaggeration. Well, at least the unconscious part.

"Not to mention he suffers from retrograde amnesia. I doubt he would be able to give you more information than you already have." This time it was Sharon fighting for him. Connor was touched, but suddenly wished that people would just stop treating him like he wasn't even there. Opening his eyes, he slowly moved to a more comfortable sitting position, wary of his headache.

"Hey. What's going on?" he asked, sounding a little drunk, but he didn't care. There were two male cops standing between Edgar and Sharon Goodwin, who seemed to be blocking their view of Connor. He didn't recognize either of them, though that wasn't so strange, it just meant they probably didn't visit Hermann's pub like the other cops.

"Dr. Rhodes seems pretty conscious to me. Why don't you let us ask him a few questions to close the report and then we'll leave him alone? Do you mind, Dr. Rhodes?" The older of the two men walked around the blockage, ignoring Goodwin's annoyed spluttering, while the younger one stayed in place, caught in a glaring contest with Edgar. It might've been funny if not for the reason they were there. .

"Depends. What do you need from me?" Connor asked, although he was pretty sure he knew. Still, he wasn't going to make this that easy. The arguing woke him from the first good sleep he'd had since the attack and he was feeling rather uncharitable at the moment.

Edgar huffed, letting the other cop pass by him. Goodwin looked annoyed, but happy to see Connor awake.

"You've got ten minutes, officers. And if you disturb the patient too much, you're out before that, understood?"

Both cops nodded absentmindedly, already ignoring the nurse, who stormed off to his desk, glaring daggers at the various monitors.

"Dr. Rhodes, I'm detective Slater and this is my colleague sergeant Mikkelson. Sorry to disturb you, we just wanted to ask you a few questions so this whole situation can be put to rest. Do you feel up to it?"

"Dr. Rhodes, if you don't feel well enough to answer questions, I'm sure we can arrange this for another time." Sharon Goodwin jumped in, giving Connor the possible out, which he appreciated, but didn't use.

"Thanks, Ms. Goodwin, but I think I want this over and done with," he said as he moved a little higher up on the bed, wincing when the movement started the room spinning.

"What you... wanna know?" he asked, swallowing tightly, and hoping this might be over before he decided to puke on the detectives as well. They might not be so understanding as Jacobs was earlier.

"Just what you remember from yesterday and the attack. Start with when you came to work, if you'd like," Detective Slater said. Connor told them what he remembered, which wasn't really that much. He still had a blank space where the surgery itself was concerned, but he could at least recall the attack itself, however crude it was. He didn't divulge anything he learned from Ethan and the cops made good of their word and kept the interview short. Maybe a little too short for Connor's liking, as they refused to divulge any information about the reason for the attack. If it wasn't for Ethan, Connor would be still in the dark.

"Can you at least tell me what happens to the guy now?" he asked, clearly annoyed. His heart rate must've reflected this, because Edgar and Miss Goodwin were heading towards the two unsuspecting cops with rather nasty glares.

"He'll be facing charges for assault and battery."

"What about his psych eval?" Connor asked, but before he could get an answer, the two cops were ushered out.

"Ten minutes are up, detectives. If you need any more information, you can come back tomorrow, during visiting hours," Edgar said, and nodded towards the door. "Dr. Rhodes needs his rest now."

Dr. Rhodes was about to protest, getting indignant about being handled like some child with a set bedtime, but his brain was working too slow to react, and by the time he was ready to deliver a good retort, the detectives had nodded their farewells and were on their way out of the unit. Huffing, Connor looked at Goodwin, irritated.

"I can speak for myself, thank you," he uttered, and was even more pissed when Goodwin's lips twitched in amusement.

"It's good to see you awake, Dr. Rhodes," she said, ignoring his huff and the glare he threw at Edgar when the nurse unceremoniously checked his IV, wrote down some numbers and made him lie down in the 30-degree recommended position, instead of sitting straight up so he could face Goodwin.

"It helps to lower intracranial pressure," Edgar said in reply to Connor's glare. "Relax, Dr. Rhodes, or I will ban any more visitors today." Connor wasn't sure if it was a threat or a promise. On one hand, he'd like to get the chance to sleep without interruption and waking up to strangers around him. On the other hand, he was pretty sure the day would lag and he would just have too much time on his hands to think. Not a prospect he was looking forward to.

"I'm as relaxed as I can be, Edgar," Connor said with a grimace. The nurse's mouth twitched in amusement, and he gave Connor a light pat on the shoulder before leaving him alone with Goodwin.

"I see you're making friends here." Goodwin spoke, and Connor didn't know what to say. What was she even doing here?

Obviously his brain to mouth filter had stopped working and he asked out loud. Goodwin tilted her head, as she put her hands on the railing at the foot of Connor's bed.

"The detectives were rather adamant about seeing you. With all the media pressure and after the last conversation I had with your father, I thought it prudent to make sure the visit went smoothly," she explained and Connor blinked, trying to take in everything she'd said.

"What media pressure?" he asked, clearly confused, but before Goodwin could answer, he asked another question, "And what did my father do this time?"

Sharon had the good grace to look a bit flustered, and she threw an inconspicuous glance towards the monitors to make sure she wouldn't be kicked out by Edgar right away.

"Sharon?" Connor pressed on. "What's going on out there?"

"Well, I will put it this way, Dr. Rhodes. You're lucky to be here and not outside dealing with all the media storm this unfortunate attack brought on," she sighed wearily and Connor blinked.

"It got out?"

"Of course it did. There were more people in the waiting room than just the Pattersons, and someone let out the information that a doctor was attacked in the hospital. We tried to keep your name under wraps, but a reporter hunted down the Pattersons and in their gratefulness for saving their son's life, they let it slip."

"And of course they connected me with my father." Connor groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension that had started to build there. "It must be a circus out there," he muttered, looking at Goodwin with sympathy.

She grimaced, then shook her head.

"Nothing we can't handle, Dr. Rhodes. It's not something you could've prevented, and we really need to step up with the security. I won't have one of my doctors attacked right on the premises for simply doing their job." Goodwin looked grim, regret showing plainly on her face.

"You couldn't have prevented it either, Sharon," Connor said, and he received a small smile.

"Thanks. The board and your father might see it a bit differently, but that's my fight. Right now, you need to focus only on getting better. Leave the reporters to us... in a day or two this will all blow over, hopefully."

"I can speak to my father, ask him to back off?" Connor offered, though he wasn't sure how much luck he would have with that. Goodwin just shook her head.

"No, it's alright. He's right this time, and we can even use this for strengthening the security around here. We'll see. By the way, Dr. Latham inquired after your health. Maybe he's not such a 'hard ass' you thought him to be." She grinned and Connor snorted.

"Bet he just wanted to know how long I'll be out of his hair," he retorted, then suddenly turned serious.

"I forgot to ask Ethan, but... what's going to happen to that Patterson boy? There was no alcohol or drugs in his system... I don't know why he would've run over the kid and not even stop-"

Goodwin hesitated for a moment, and Connor knew that her response won't be good. The lack of any drugs or alcohol in this case probably worked more against the kid and if there was a girl and motive involved, he could be facing murder charges. Still, he wanted to know what was going on, even so he could just put the whole attack behind and focus on healing.

"Sharon?" he said encouragingly, hoping his voice didn't sound as unsure as he felt.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Rhodes. I just don't think this is a good time for that conversation. You need your rest and I am already running late." She gave him an apologetic pat on the leg and left before he could even reply.

"What the hell?" he asked, taken aback by her swift departure. Now he was just more confused, and for the time being, there was no one he could talk to, except Edgar, who didn't look all that approachable, not to mention he was probably under orders not to tell him anything anyways.

Everyone kept telling Connor to relax and get some rest, but each visitor he had had so far had left him with more things to worry about. Connor wasn't sure if he should be more bothered by Goodwin's refusal to discuss Patterson, or by the fact that there were reporters just waiting to get their hands on him for some exclusive interview. In the end, he did the only thing he could in his situation. Closed his eyes and wished for sleep, the steady thumping inside his head making his only soundtrack.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Connor was used to bad dreams. Ever since the tender age of ten, when his mother decided to commit suicide by jumping off the roof of their three storey house, Connor was pretty used to nightmares. Truth was, he'd had them even as a small kid, though then they were about monsters hiding under his bed, of loud voices screaming words that weren't making sense. Once he dreamt about a strange woman all in red, who came into his room and just took him from his home. He didn't see her face, but he could hear his mother screaming from behind the door of his closet not to leave with her. It was one of those dreams that kept repeating, and Connor always woke up screaming. They stopped the night his mom jumped. After that, he never dreamt of the lady in red... only of his mom.

Right now, he was back in his childhood bedroom, sitting on his bed, just waiting. It was dark outside, and the house was quiet, too quiet. The only thing he could hear was the rapid beating of his own heart, could feel it thumping hard inside his chest, all up to his head.

"Hello? Claire? Dad?" he asked, ostensibly in a child's voice, and he knew he was ten again and that the house was empty. He felt empty inside too. There was no one to talk to, no one to hug him. He felt alone and scared and it was stupid because he wasn't a child anymore and he should be able to do something, anything, to stop that feeling, but ever since Sam left and David Downey passed away, he felt like there's no one to turn to.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps and Connor jerked, his heart pausing for a second, everything just stopping. The footsteps were heavy and coming closer, unfamiliar and strangely daunting. They meant danger, and Connor suddenly jumped off his bed and ran towards the door. Touching the doorknob he hesitated. Should he hide in his room or try to run? What was waiting for him outside this room, outside this house? He slowly turned the doorknob and with bated breath peeked through the small opening. The hall outside was painted in darkness, the only light coming from the stairwell at the end of it. All the doors were closed and looking much bigger and heavier than Connor remembered. The only window outside he could see from his spot was black as ink, not even a flicker of stars or moon showing through. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Before Connor could find the courage to open the door all the way and run into the hall, the footsteps became louder, and he spotted a shadow moving from the stairs. Gasping, Connor shut the door, wishing for a lock that didn't exist. Anything to block the door.

"Dad... please... where are you?" he asked, frantically looking around his room for some weapon or a way out. His eyes spotted the chair in the corner, and he quickly maneuvered it against the door, though even he realized how flimsy a barricade it was. There was a thump of a door being kicked open and the footsteps vanished inside. He didn't have much time. Grabbing his baseball bat from the shelf, he suppressed the sudden chills when his hand touched the smooth wood. Connor gave one last look at the chair, then went inside his closet and closed the door. He hid between old coats that oddly smelled of a disinfectant and that didn't belong there, but at least they offered some hiding space. Connor burrowed himself in the farthest corner, holding the baseball bat like a lifeline, and counting down the seconds before he heard the footsteps again.

"Eleven... twelve..." There was a creak and a thud. The doorknob on his room turned slowly and the door started to open, until it hit the chair blocking its way. Someone cursed and Connor closed his eyes tightly. It was just a dream, just a bad dream. It would go away. He would wake up. "Please, wake up," he muttered under his breath, wishing with all his heart he would. There was a loud knock, then the sound of wood breaking and splinters flying.

Connor froze. He heard breathing that wasn't coming from him, just inches in front of the door to his closet. He could smell the stink of sweat and rage, all rolled up nicely into an odor of oncoming tragedy.

"You can't hide, boy. I will get you." The voice was scratchy and desperate. It spoke in a whisper and Connor had never heard anything scarier in his life. "I lost my son and it's all your fault. You ran him over with a car like a rabid dog. That baseball bat you're clutching is his. I won't let anyone save you boy, not this time. You're mine and you'll pay."

With that, the door to the closet opened. Connor felt the stale breath right against his chin. Despite the horror, he slowly, oh so slowly, opened his eyes, to look in the face of death. He thought he would see an enraged man, a person with crazy eyes, or a faceless figure washed in dark with eyes leading straight to hell. What he saw instead made him let go of the baseball bat. Connor's eyes went wide as he looked into the face of the woman in red. The second the bat hit the floor and the woman reached out for him, Connor started screaming.

It was close to midnight, and Amy was going over her patients charts, while humming to herself quietly. Kathrin, the other nurse that was on shift, had just popped out for a quick smoke - or rather a long call to her boyfriend. Most of the patients in the SNICU were fast asleep. Amy looked at the clock on the computer that showed she still had five more minutes until she needed to wake up Mrs. Riley for her concussion check. The unit was quiet, except for the hushed beeping of machines and the rustling of bed sheets. Amy paused her humming and looked up. Her sixth sense told her something was wrong and she looked around, trying to find the source of her concern. Her eyes somehow instinctively zoned in on the bed with Dr. Rhodes. For a moment he was still, his chest paused mid-breath, face ashen, looking dead. Amy blinked and she was on her feet and by the bed before she even realized it, one of her hands reaching to Connor's wrist and the pulse point, while her eyes looked at the monitor showing that although not ideal, his vitals were still there.

Connor let out a shaky breath, along with something that sounded suspiciously close to a whine. His eyes were closed, but Amy could see the rapid eye movements. His breathing was getting faster and a bit uneven, the skin under Amy's fingers cold and clammy. It looked like he was in the middle of a nightmare, but Amy didn't like the numbers the monitor was showing. Although strange dreams with a head injury weren't anything new, the nightmares usually didn't help the patients to recuperate any quicker.

While Amy debated whether to wake him or not, Connor tossed on the bed, as if he was trying to run away. His right hand clutched the bed railing tightly, the other burrowed in the sheets. He started muttering numbers and started tossing his head from side to side, moaning.

"Dr. Rhodes, I need you to wake up." She spoke gently, her hand squeezing his wrist, but he didn't react, lost too deeply in whatever nightmare he was having. She muttered a curse, seeing his heart rate rocketing up. She could see he was scared or in pain and on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Come on Connor, don't make me bring out the big guns. No one likes a sternal rub," she spoke to him and he froze. For a second she thought that was it, and he was awake, but then he whimpered and moved his head.

"Connor, wake up," she commanded sternly and without another thought, reached out and touched his cheek. Several things happened at the same moment. The monitor went crazy, beeping its warning, even as Connor screamed in fright, eyes snapping open and he bolted upright, sitting up straight in the bed. Amy yelped and jumped back, startled. Connor was gasping for breath, cold sweat running down his face and soaking through the flimsy hospital gown. His eyes were wide, staring right at Amy, and she was truly taken aback by all the fear she saw there.

"D-Dr. Rhodes?" she asked slowly, trying to get her own breath back. She felt true relief when she saw some of the recognition return to those dark eyes. 'A bit too dark,' she thought as she looked at the unnaturally dilated pupils on her patient's face.

"It's me, Amy. Do you know where you are?" she asked calmly, her hand returning to his wrist as much to provide comfort as to check his pulse without the need to look away to the monitor.

Connor blinked.

"Connor. Can you tell me where you are?"

He heard the voice and saw the slightly familiar and very blurry face. He kept blinking, trying to clear his vision, even as the world seemed to double. He looked around and was relieved to see no red. The woman in the red dress was gone. This wasn't his childhood home anymore, and he wasn't being chased by crazy people. He was sitting in a bed, in a "hospital," he muttered to himself, not even realizing that was the question Amy asked.

"Good. Now I need you to calm down a bit. Can you slow your breathing for me?" the woman next to him asked, and Connor gave a small nod of his head. He was already trying to slow his breathing, but it was next to impossible with the way his heart kept beating. His lungs were just starved for more oxygen. He gasped and curled his arm around his heaving chest. It felt like there was no oxygen and his head, god, his head hurt like never before. Connor moaned and put his head against his knees, rocking slowly. There was a rhythm to the pain, the rhythm of his heart pumping blood inside his brain. He could almost hear it sloshing around. Something was wrong and he didn't know how to fix it, so he kept rocking and moaning until a pair of hands stopped him.

Amy watched the numbers on the monitor going from bad to worse. She could see that Connor was either having a panic attack or there was something seriously wrong. First, she needed to try and calm him down, and get his breathing under control. She put her arm between Connor's chest and his knees, prying him away from the uncomfortable position and pushing him down to lay on his back. He was already curled up again, though this time at least he was lying down and on his side, when Amy managed to put the oxygen mask on his face. She kept muttering soothing words to him as she checked his IV and vitals, and assured herself that he was at least getting enough oxygen, before focusing on the real problem.

"Connor, can you tell me what's wrong? What hurts?" She had to repeat the question several times before he opened his eyes a slit. One of his hands came up to clutch at the side of his head.

"Head? Is it worse than it was before?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, another moan escaping his throat. Amy nodded and gently squeezed his shoulder in support. It was time to call in the doctor from the night shift.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, here's the last chapter of the fic. I want to thank again to my beta Argallel, who did a great job and to all who found the time to review (hugs Hannah, Hermitized and Marielle) as well as all who gave kudos . Hope you enjoyed reading the fic as much as I did writing it:) Let me know what you thought, and... see you next time.

The next hour was a distant blur to Connor. There was confusion, people moving around him, asking him questions, poking him, and shining that stupid light in his face. And of course there was pain - a lot of it. He felt tears running down his face as he tried to burrow his head in the pillow, wishing for unconsciousness, but everyone around him kept telling him to stay awake. For a moment, Connor really hated this hospital, and everything it represented.

"Dr. Rhodes, I need you to stay still."There was a tinny voice coming from somewhere far away, and Connor opened his eyes in confusion, seeing he was stuck in the middle of a machine.

„What-" he wanted to ask, but there was a coppery taste in his mouth and he felt a tight band around his head, holding him down to the bed, Everything was confusing and he already forgot the question.

"Dr. Rhodes, you need to relax. It's just a CT, it'll be over shortly." Connor recognized the voice of the technician, though he couldn't put a name to it. "Try and hold still, please."

Connor let out a frustrated growl, his hands clenching into fists. He tried to move them but realized he was pretty much strapped down. Despite his best intentions and medical knowledge, his brain wasn't firing on all cylinders, and the reality started mixing with nightmares. The machine vanished and he was back in his house, lying tied up on the floor. But this time the person squatting down next to him wasn't an angry man or a woman in red. This time it was the teenage version of his sister patting him on the head.

"Claire?" Connor croaked, frozen in surprise. "What-"

For the first time, Connor thought that he might've died and gone straight to hell. Reality just kept vanishing, turning into this twisted nightmare and he couldn't find the way out.

"Now now, little brother, stop struggling," Claire softly cooed into his ear, her hand gently running through his hair, hitting the throbbing wound on his scalp.

"Claire, please... untie me," Connor pleaded, the rope around his wrists feeling like jabbing needles.

"Why? So you can run away and leave me alone? Again?" Claire asked as she shook her head.

"I won't leave, I promise." Connor was panting for breath, trying to look up and into his sister's eyes, but she just shook her head, looking at the closet door behind him. Connor had a crawling feeling that she was looking at something specific, or maybe even someone, but he didn't dare to turn around and check it.

"Liar liar, pants on fire," she sung reproachfully. "You promised before, you know. During mom's funeral."

Connor blinked, because it was a memory he had buried long ago, quite literally, along with his mother.

_"Don't worry Claire, I promise, I will never leave you. Just stop crying,"_ Claire recounted. Connor twitched, his heart filled with sudden pain. He remembered that awful day, how he couldn't stop thinking about the night his mom died, but Claire had kept sobbing next to him and it sounded just too much like his mother's cries before she jumped. He couldn't take it any longer. So he hugged his sister and promised something he couldn't fulfill. Even at that age he knew he would have to leave to go somewhere far away from the place that ruined his mother.

"I'm sorry Claire," he said wearily. "I tried, I really did. But I couldn't stay. It would've ruined me. I just... I needed to get away."

"Yeah, but what about me, Connor? Did you even think about me when you up and left? When I didn't hear from you for several months at a time? While you were out there discovering yourself, I was left to pick up the pieces and help dad keep his head above the water. Do you know how hard that was? How much it hurt to see you leave?" Her voice rose steadily and Connor could feel her anger rise with it. The temperature suddenly dropped, and he felt like someone had just thrown a bucket filled with ice water down on his head. Connor started shivering, his teeth chattering.

"I-I'm s-sorry, Claire. P-please, just l-let me go," he begged, feeling that he couldn't take any more of this. He wished for all of this to end, whatever the hell was going on. But Claire just shook her head and patted him on the cheek with a smile.

"No way, no how," she sing-songed. "I'll keep you here in the closet, right next to mom. I will never let you go, ever again. See? She agrees with me," Claire said with a smile, This time Connor couldn't stop, he just had to look. Something cold touched his back as he turned his head and came face to face with his mother.

He should've just closed his eyes and stopped the madness, but he couldn't. He couldn't pry his eyes off the bloodied, deformed face of the woman who once sung lullabies to him, who tended to his bruised knees and made the best tomato soup he ever ate. It was his mother.

"Mom?" he asked, his voice choked and barely audible.

"Shhh," She put a crooked finger to her bloodied lips, then leaned over and gave a gentle kiss to his forehead. Connor whimpered but couldn't pull away, frozen in horror.

"Everything will be okay, Connor. I will always be with you."

"Please, mom." Connor's eyes were closed tightly even as he felt her fingers brush over his hair. "I know I should've said something, made you not jump. I just didn't know, I swear. Mom. Make this stop. Please. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, baby," she said calmly, and when Connor opened his eyes, the blood had vanished and her face was just as he remembered... beautiful and smiling.

"It will be okay. We will meet again, just not yet. Rest, baby. It's time you woke up."

"Mom?" Connor breathed and he felt the ropes around his hands and legs vanish into thin air. He realized that the room was also getting brighter and the oppressing silence was being slowly penetrated by noise. Shuffling feet, squeaking of wheels and an irritating beeping - all of it was getting stronger, louder. Claire was long gone and as the room filled with white fog, he clutched at the hand of his mother, wishing fervently to feel her touch one more time before everything vanished.

"You're not alone, Connor. Never alone," she said, and Connor hoped with all his heart that it was true. "It's time to wake up now, Connor," was the last thing she said and for once, Connor decided to listen to his family.

When he opened his eyes, he was lying in a different bed, hooked up to more machines than he was before, but the crippling pain he remembered was gone. The headache was still there, but it was much less pronounced, and Connor didn't have the urge to smash his head against the wall.

"I think our sleeping beauty has decided to wake up." A familiar voice spoke from his left side, and in the next moment, there were two faces leaning in his sight.

"About time too," Ethan said with a grin as Maggie put her hand in Connor's and gently squeezed. Connor blinked and squeezed back.

"Hey," he croaked, then grimaced at the taste in his mouth. He felt like he just woke up after a three day drinking binge. "Water?" he asked, but Maggie was already handing him a spoon with some ice chips.

"Thanks," he muttered, then slowly reached up towards his head. He felt the bandage and something else, but Ethan pulled his hand away before he could examine the object.

"Careful," Ethan said and maneuvered Connor's hand back to the bed.

"Did my head explode?" Connor asked with a grimace and Maggie chuckled.

"It might feel like that, honey," she said, then shook her head. "But no. It's just the ICP monitor."

"Still bleeding?" Connor frowned, wishing this nightmare could finally be over.

"Not anymore, but you gave the night shift quite a scare. Your blood pressure shot up despite the meds. The bleeding got worse. Roscoe decided to operate. So they stopped the bleeding, but I'm afraid you're stuck with the ICP monitor for a few days, just to make sure."

"Awesome," Connor sighed and blinked. "How long was I out?" He wanted to ask more questions, like how did the surgery go, if they did a full craniotomy or just drilled some holes in his skull. What meds were they keeping him on, if the fuzzy feeling was due to brain damage or just the meds. Frankly, he didn't have the energy or capacity to grasp the answers to his questions, not now. He recalled most of the last few days and hopefully he would be able to retain this conversation as well. Right now he would be happy with simple questions and answers.

"They took you into surgery right after the CT. You had a small seizure in there, but Roscoe and Jacobs are pretty sure that it shouldn't be an issue anymore." Ethan yawned, and Connor frowned. "Sorry," Ethan apologized, hiding another yawn. "I got the call that you were going to surgery around 1am."

"You been camping out here since then?" Connor asked, surprised. Ethan just shrugged.

"Couldn't really just go back to sleep after that, could I?"

"I read the text from Amy around five, you were already out of the surgery by then," Maggie said and winked, when she saw Connor's questioning glance. "What, you didn't think I wouldn't be keeping tabs on you? I'm the ED head nurse. I am supposed to be on the top of the gossip ladder."

"Uh, thanks, I think," Connor said after a moment, still trying to get his head around the situation. "So what's the time now?"

"Just before seven am, which means we'll have to head back to ED. And let Jacobs know you're awake. Last I saw him he was busy talking to your dad on the phone," Ethan said and Connor couldn't stop the grimace. He knew there was a conversation that needed to happen between him and his father, he just didn't think today was the right day for it.

"Think I'll just go back to sleep, preferably for the next week," Connor said with a sigh and was a bit surprised by the quick peck on the cheek Maggie gave him.

"Sleep is the best medicine right now, Dr. Rhodes," she said with a smile. "I'm happy you're alright." Then she gave him a quick swat on his shoulder and Connor yelped.

"Ow! What was that for?" he protested.

"For scaring us like that. Start bleeding in the middle of the night, duh." She was still muttering on her way out of the cubicle, and Ethan watched her with an amused grin.

"Hope _you_ won't be kissing or hitting me," Connor said a bit grumpily. Ethan just quirked his eyebrow and grinned.

"I'll save that for the girls, thanks. But you owe me a drink, man. As soon as you're off the meds, that is."

"I'll buy you two," Connor answered with a smile that turned into a yawn.

"I'll get going and let Jacobs know you're awake. Glad you're okay, buddy."

Connor nodded and closed his eyes. He wasn't even sure what being okay entailed, not after everything he saw in the last two days. He didn't know why the attack brought up the memories of his mother's death. Somewhere deep inside, he was wondering if it was really all just a dream, or if there was some chance that he actually spoke to his mother. Sadly there was no way to know for sure if everything was just the work of his imagination or not, and Connor was a bit glad for it. Maybe he could push it back again, lock it up in the closet and throw away the key.

Or maybe...

Maybe it was time to deal with everything that happened twenty years ago. After all, he came back to Chicago to face his demons. There was no way to know how much time anyone had on this earth, these last few days should've taught him that. And he owed an apology to his sister, for a promise he couldn't keep.

When Dr. Jacobs appeared a few minutes later, Connor opened his eyes and looked at the doctor.

"Can you call my father, please? I need to talk to him."

Dr. Jacobs looked a bit stunned, but quickly nodded.

"There's no need to call. He's already on his way to see you."

"Oh, okay," Connor said with a sigh. The oncoming conversation wasn't going to be easy and maybe he shouldn't be doing it under all those drugs, but he knew that they've already lost a lot of time and if he waited any longer, he might lose the courage his mother's words gave him. After all, his work family was there for him. It was time to get back his blood family as well.

The End


End file.
